


The Piemaker

by ANobleCompanion



Series: Chasing Pie [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Pie, Pre-Slash, food critic!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is a food critic with his job on the line. He's got to find a new hook to draw it readers or get cut from his paper. Fortunately for him, a slice of pie from an unknown cook has just given him the perfect idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Piemaker

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Here's part one of my two part response to my [Leap Fic Challenge](http://supernaturallynoble.tumblr.com/post/138500752292/personal-challenge), which I know, kinda cheating. BUT part 2 has a different style than this part, so the division actually DOES make sense! You'll get that next week :) 
> 
> HUGE thank you to my lovely wifey, [Powerfulweak](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com) for the beta!!
> 
> You guys should also go tell [SWLfangirl](http://swlfangirl.tumblr.com) how awesome this banner is. Because it is!

“Would you like a refill on your water?”

The waitress standing patiently beside his table had dark, straight hair that hung loose around her face. She looked to be in her late twenties. A surreptitious glance at the badge on her upper right chest said her name was Madison.

“Yes, please,” Cas said, his shoulders slumping forward, tired but grateful. It had been a long week and he still had to face his editor at the paper in an hour to discuss his latest piece. It was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

The ice clinked together in his glass as the fresh water from the pitcher poured over the individual cubes, forcing them to shift and settle.

“So,” Madison said with a smile, holding the pitcher up in her right hand while her left rested on her hip. “What do you think of your burger?”

Cas wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but strongly felt that no server should ever be treated poorly simply because of his bad mood.

“It’s adequate,” he responded with a small smile. When Madison’s eyebrow quirked and she straightened a it, clearly ready to defend the food, Cas rushed to qualify.

“I mean, I’m enjoying it very much. It’s actually much better than many burgers I’ve had in similar establishments.” He paused, aware his words were still sounding condescending despite his best effort to the contrary. No wonder his readership was so small, if this was all he could come up with.

For her part, Madison’s lip was curling up somewhat at a corner, clearly aware of Cas’ discomfort and amused by it rather than offended. Thank goodness for small miracles.

“Sorry. You could say I eat food for a living,” Cas said, trying to explain. “I’ve had a lot of burgers. Some crappy, some extremely high-end gourmet. My standards are pretty expansive. That said, this burger is far from the crappy end of the scale, and in terms of a quick stop for lunch, is currently making me very happy.”

Madison burst out with a bright laugh, bending backwards slightly at the waist, but still expertly keeping the water pitcher level. Cas couldn’t say he blamed her. He felt his ears warming ever so slightly, but was glad she clearly wasn’t insulted.

“You eat for a living? That sounds like my kind of life. What are you, a food critic?”

Nodding reluctantly, Cas kicked himself. He hated mentioning his job while eating out. It almost invariably led to assertions that he just _had_ to try this or that followed by long winded arguments about how he should review the place.

Instead, Madison just gave him a full blown, cheeky grin.

“Lucky for both of us then that you came in this week instead of last week.”

Cas’ curiosity was piqued by the unexpected response.

“Oh?”

“We just got a new head cook. It’s about damn time too. If you’d ordered a burger last week off of Gordon? It would have tasted like shit and you would have written a scathing review on principle alone. Fortunately, you and your discerning palate came in _this_ week. The new guy is loads better.”

Cas chuckled. “I’m grateful for good timing then.” At the mention of time, he glanced over his shoulder at the kitschy clock on the wall and winced, feeling his neck tightening back up again. He had less than fifteen minutes left to finish eating and pay before heading to his meeting with Crowley.

“Oh dang, I’m sorry,” Madison said, scrunching her forehead and glancing over at the clock herself, clearly reading his body language. “I’ve talked your ear off and you probably have places to be. Enjoy the burger. Unless you think you want something else, I’ll go ahead and get your check ready.”

Some of the tension left Cas’ upper body. “Please, thank you. Unfortunately, I have a meeting with my editor. Sadly, my job isn’t _just_ eating food.”

Madison’s expression smoothed out again and she huffed another laugh as she left him to his meal. Cas appreciated her attitude. Food service was a difficult business, but Madison seemed to take it in stride well and made a point of connecting with guests without pushing. Best of all, she paid attention to their needs, whether explicitly stated or not. Professional experience had him guessing she had been in the industry for at least five years. It was hard to pick up that level of attentiveness without spending ample amount of time face-to-face with patrons.

And besides, it really was a good burger. Cas hadn’t lied, he’d eaten better, but it was probably among the best considering the quality ingredients and set up the diner would be limited to. The fries were a surprise as well. Clearly fresh cut instead of  frozen and seasoned with something he couldn’t quite place.

As soon as Cas had taken the last bite, plate completely clean, Madison reappeared with the check and a small take away container, which she set down next to his elbow.

“I’m really not interested in dessert.”

“Yes you are,” Madison said. “It’s on the house. Don’t worry, I’d have talked you into it anyhow if you weren’t in a time crunch. Trust me,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “you won’t regret it.” Not waiting for him to argue further, Madison gave him a wink before turning on her heel and walking away.

Cas counted out his cash, making sure to leave a tip big enough to not only cover the standard twenty percent, but also the cost of the pie in case it came out of Madison’s wages. He didn’t begrudge the extra.

* * *

 

His meeting with Crowley went about as well as expected.

“Readership is _down,_ Castiel. Without more subscriptions, I can’t argue for more contracts with advertisers. Do I need to remind you again that this place runs on those contracts?

Cas fought the urge to roll his eyes. The discussion was hardly new. What came next was.

“Look. According to surveys, you’re the least read element of the paper. Most people don’t even know who you are. Either come up with some kind hook to get people reading within the next week, or I’m cutting you.

Glad, not for the first time, that he had the ability to work mostly from home, Cas left the office. His stride was long but jerky as he headed towards his car. Yanking the door open, he dropped into the driver’s seat.

Almost instantly, a sweet, sugary smell filled his nose. Craning his neck around to the backseat, he realized he’d forgotten about the dessert Madison had given him.

After dealing with Crowley, something indulgent felt very appealing.

Reaching back, Cas grabbed the styrofoam to go container and popped it open to find a slice of typical apple pie sitting innocuously inside.

At this point, Cas didn’t care if the thing and previously been frozen. He just wanted to wipe out his lingering interaction with his boss in the way only food could do. Grateful for the fork Madison had been thoughtful enough to provide, he dug in.

As his mouth closed around the first bite, it wasn’t just the flavor that hit him, it was a wall of memories.

In his mind’s eye, Cas was ten years old again, sitting at the kitchen table in his best friend’s house after school. Mrs. Winchester moved around the room in a comfortable familiarity as she sliced a fresh pie, putting a piece on a plate for him and Dean and Dean’s little brother, Sam.

The scene was achingly nostalgic, representing almost every afternoon of Cas’ early school years until he and Dean were in the fifth grade.

That November, right after Halloween, the Winchester house had caught fire. Mrs Winchester hadn’t made it out.

Dean’s father had packed up his sons and left in the middle of the night. Cas had been devastated. He had no way of contacting his best friend. But it went deeper than that. His own mother had died when he was still an infant and his father had always been remote and distant. Growing up, Cas had spent more time at the Winchester’s than he had in his own home. The many meals he’d eaten at Mary Winchester’s table had inspired his love for food.

When she died, Cas felt like he’d lost his family too.

And he’d never had a pie that came close to matching the ones eaten in that kitchen.

Until now.

It was heaven in a styrofoam container, and Cas was more than a little disappointed when he realized it was gone. Still, it had done a great deal to bouy his spirits and feel a sense of optimism about coming up with an idea that would satisfy Crowley.

Turning his key in the ignition, he went home to brainstorm.

Cas’ best thinking usually happened while running. The monotone slap of shoes against the pavement helped clear his head. Since he did consume quite a few calories in his line of work, he figured he could justify running as a work necessity and refused to feel guilty for doing so during hours when Crowley would say he was, “on the clock.”

As he ran the familiar path, he let his mind wander. Try as he might, he couldn’t focus on the assignment Crowley had given him.

What kind of catch would draw in readers? High end dining was overdone and impractical, allergy friendly might work, but Crowley would wave it off as a fad. Most _actual_ fads didn’t really seem to take root in their corner of the world. The one fancy frozen yogurt joint that had opened, closed again within six months.

Lebanon wasn’t a big city. People wanted something that reminded them of home, with the convenience of not having to actually cook.

Involuntarily, Cas’ thoughts drifted back to the slice of pie. _That_ was what people around here wanted.

Feet stuttering on the pavement as he rapidly slowed his momentum, Cas grinned. He turned back towards home, outlining a basic concept for his new strategy. And he knew exactly where he wanted to start.

It took Cas a week to get Crowley to finally sign off on his idea. Reviewing roadside diners registered as too plebeian and mainstream for the Glasgow-born editor, and Cas was no Guy Fieri. He’d finally gone straight to Meg, the paper’s owner and close friend, even though he knew it would do him no favors with his immediate supervisor.

“You’d better hope this works, Clarence,” Meg warned. “Much as it pains me to admit, Crowley’s right about readership. If your numbers don’t go up, don’t expect me to back you up if he decides to lay you off.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Cas said, his voice flat and barely suppressing an eye roll.

Crowley _was_ right about one thing, though Cas didn’t agree that it was about his readership. Diner/Dive reviews weren’t new. It would hardly shake up the audience Cas was aiming for. But reviewing the diners as a whole would merely be incidental in the venture. Cas was counting on his twist to really draw in his numbers.

Madison’s eyes brightened when she saw Cas back in a booth, far later than he had hoped.

“You’re back!” she said, smile genuine as she walked up to his table, pad and pen already handy. “I guess ‘adequate’ can sometime hit the spot, huh?”

She stood casually in front of him, one hip cocked to the side, and her shoulders dropped. There was a twinkle in her eye and Cas knew it wasn’t a dig at his fumbled and impromptu critique, just friendly teasing. He appreciated that. The world of food could be surprisingly intense and just like with anyone who shared their creation with strangers, sometimes it was hard to take honest feedback.

Castiel smiled in response. “It can indeed. And while I will enjoy another burger, I have to admit, it was the pie that brought me back. I would actually love to feature it in an official review, and hopefully meet the person who baked it?”

Madison’s smile dropped. “Shit, really?”

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

She must have read the confusion in his furrowed brow.

“The guy we had behind the counter when you came in last week has already moved on. Unfortunately, we’ve got Gordon back. The owner made him stick with Dean’s recipe for burgers as a condition of his rehire, but he’s a crap baker. I’m afraid all we’ve got today is a thawed lemon merengue. Trust me when I say it wouldn’t be good for either of us if you decided to review it. And I will save you the pleasure of meeting Gordon.”

Cas was so stunned over the revelation that the very first review he’d lined up for his new hook was a bust that he almost missed a crucial detail in Madison’s explanation.

“Wait. What did you say the name of the new cook was?”

“Gordon? Or Dean? Dean was the guy that was here for about a week and a half before he split. Said he never stayed in one place too long. Just liked to fill in where he was needed until he wasn’t needed anymore. And apparently there was something about Lebanon in particular that had him out faster than normal.”

Cas thought for a minute that his body had forgotten how to breathe.

“What was Dean’s last name?”

“Winchester. Like the gun.”

Castiel’s world stopped for a moment as another flash of memory overtook him, the image of a small, freckle faced boy with an infectious grin filling his mind’s eye.

Madison leaned forward, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she reached out a hand tentatively towards Castiel as she peered down at him.

“Hey. You ok?”

He looked back up at her, blinking hard.

“You checked out there for a second.”

“Madison, do you know where Dean was planning on heading next?”

She straightened up, her expression of concern flattening out to a more neutral tone as she processed the question. She narrowed her eyes, clearly trying to recall what Dean might have said to her.

“I think he was headed west on 36 towards Denver.”

Cas smiled at her, wide and gummy, feeling lighter than he had in years.

He stood up and pulled ten dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Holding it up, she cocked her head to the side. “What’s this for? You haven’t even ordered anything yet.”

Cas continued to grin as he waved off her attempt to hand it back. “It’s a tip for the tip. Thank you. I have a pie maker to find.”

As he headed back out to his car, Cas ruefully noted he’d have to adjust his pitch to Crowley, but he didn’t think it would be a problem. _This_ was exactly the unique hook that the man would eat up.


End file.
